A Time For Truth
by Andrew Rice
Summary: Catherine Weaver is forced to re-evaluate her relationship with her 'daughter', for the time of truth is upon them, and Savannah's survival may be more important to he course of the fight against Skynet than she has ever realised...
1. Chapter 1

**I began writing this as, after watching both seasons of Terminator SCC, I found myself drawn to the relationship between Catherine Weaver and her 'daughter' – and of course with the series then being cancelled, we never did get to see how it might have progressed. Whilst this was highly annoying and disappointing (why do all the best series get treated in this way?), it however does give some latitude for imaginative speculation and the ability to walk in a different direction.**

 **And so, this is what I intend to do...**

 **A Time For Truth**

"Good Morning, Ms Weaver"

The tall, red-haired woman gave a ghost of a smile as she entered the room.

"Good Morning to you, John-Henry"

He watched as she took a seat across from him, her usual position. She was wearing her hair down today, he noted, a trait that had become more normal as the weeks had worn on. Confidence lay in every fluid movement, the barriers of her icy reserve dropping with each new milestone that he had reached, and yet not with others around her, who he knew had no concept of her real 'identity'.

It was a reserve that included everyone by degrees, even Mr Ellison.

All apart, it seemed, from Savannah.

From his first observations of her interaction with the young girl to the present, he had witnessed a gradual thawing in his creator's attitude to her. He had reviewed camera footage of her from before his sentience, and had seen that whilst before Weaver seemed remote and disinterested in her 'daughter', a single incident involving the child's reluctance to join her in a photo-shoot and the subsequent involvement of the late Dr Sherman had begun a subtle change. At first he had believed that it has simply been to maintain her cover as a human, but as the months had passed and the relationship between them had appeared to slowly deepen, he had begun to form the impression that indeed Weaver _did_ have another motivation for her actions.

A motivation that Mr Ellison called 'love'

"You asked to see me?"

As always she was to the point, and he nodded, laying aside one of the plastic figures that he had been toying with.

"Yes, I did," He said," I wanted to discuss something with you"

Weaver tilted her head to one side, her cool green eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"That much Mr Ellison conveyed to me"

He was silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful as his subroutines gauged his words.

"I wanted to discuss Savannah with you"

"Savannah?" Weaver's eyebrow lifted a fraction, her familiar Edinburgh brogue becoming ever so slightly softer as a projected image of the child appeared on the glass screen to one side of the A.I. "And just why do we need to discuss my daughter?"

John Henry studied her, noting her reaction to his words and to the picture. It was one that he had chosen with care, one of her in casual clothes, her smile wide and free beneath her riot of fiery hair.

"I believe that the time is right for her to know the truth"

She drew back, staring at him, surprise evident across her face, and for a moment, the silence in the room, broken only by the muted thrumming of the air conditioning, was palpable.

"Go on"

Her voice was calm, strictly neutral, but John Henry picked up the smallest nuance of concern. He had anticipated that this conversation would be very difficult, but, given his research and frames of reference, he had concluded that it could not be deferred any longer.

"Savannah is growing, " he began, being cautious in his use of grammar in order not to either antagonise the situation or make his meaning unclear," Whilst at the present time she is six, in fifteen days she will be seven"

"I am aware of her coming birthday."

"Indeed," If her tone impacted upon him in any way, he did not betray it," But the occasion serves to demonstrate my point. Time is moving on, and she is getting older..."

Weaver frowned, a very human characteristic that she had seemingly begun to unconsciously emulate.

"Savannah is growing, yes," She said, "But I do not understand what her age has to do with this matter? Whether she is six or seven, she is still a child, after all"

Images flashed on the screen, the picture of Savannah fading to be replaced by that of a teenager who looked resembled her somewhat , the expression on the girl's face beneath her unevenly hacked hair mutinous, her clothing clearly worn to create the impression of rebellion.

"From my research into how children age, I have found that as human females enter the age of twelve and begin hormonal changes, so emotional and logical responses can become more muddled. They can swing wildly from one extreme to another"

A few more images followed, all of rebellious teenagers, to finally be replaced by the original picture of Savannah.

"I have calculated that if you told her the truth now, she will be at least seventy percent more likely to accept it than if you leave it until later years"

Weaver studied the picture in silence before speaking again.

"Perhaps you are correct in your findings," She conceded, "But even if you are, why do I need to tell her at all? My adoption of Dr Sherman's advice has proved highly successful in dealing with her, and she seems to be happy enough, thriving even"

John Henry nodded. This would be the most difficult part.

"She does indeed. She is doing well in her education; her school reports are exemplary and speak of her high ability in many areas, most notably in the subjects of mathematics and computer science"

"Abilities that are no doubt being helped through you," Weaver gave a tight-lipped smile, "I know she often talks to you, John Henry"

"It is true that Savannah and I often talk, but thus far she has needed little help from me. Her abilities seem innate to her, and this is, I believe, significant"

Weaver leaned forward, staring into his face."Significant in what way?"

"For the future"

She cocked her head questioningly. "Are you saying that Savannah might be gifted?"

John Henry was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"I believe she might well be, yes"

She hadn't considered the possibility, and the thought of it surprised her. Yet, as she ruminated upon the concept, she realised that he might indeed be correct. She had seen herself the ease with which Savannah had learned to use a computer, and how she seemed confident in her use of numbers. At the time she had simply assumed that John Henry had been teaching her, but now, with his revelation, she was forced to re-evaluate those facts.

But what did any of this have to do with her telling the girl the whole truth of her parent's death, and of her own interjection into her young life?

" There is something else, though" John Henry said, as if divining her thoughts," Something of equal importance"

She looked at him. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"Savannah is very compassionate," He said quietly," She seems to look for the best in others around her, and help them when it's needed. I've researched this, and I believe the words that would be most appropriate to use to describe her is that she is 'good hearted'"

Weaver let her eyes wander. Indeed, she too had noticed that Savannah, young as she was, appeared to have the ability to be steadfast in her friendships, and also to care very deeply about those she called friends. Although usually occupied with her project, as she had walked around the offices of ZeiraCorp she had noted with an odd sense of pride that all of the staff seemed to dote on her, with many describing her sunny disposition and willingness to help, whether that be putting books away or scurrying to pick up dropped documents, as being somewhat 'angelic'. Even at home she had often observed the girl helping out her nanny, even helping _her_ when the occasion required it, and all with a kind word and that very shy smile, a smile that even she, despite her austere programming, had come to value.

Her gaze settled on the screen again, and on the image of Savannah projected there.

"She does seem to be," She admitted, her tone altering to become softer in timbre," A rare enough quality in humans, I've found"

John Henry tilted his head, the diffuse light catching his light grey eyes as he spoke, "Ms Weaver, I believe that these two parts of her nature may be vital to the future," He paused for a moment before continuing," Perhaps, to _all_ of our futures, including yours"

Her eyebrow rose up in surprise." Mine?"

"Yes. Perhaps especially to yours"

Silence again descended between them as Weaver took in his words. John Henry was the most powerful A.I in the world, with computational power that could not be measured. His 'mind' continued to grow exponentially, constantly exploring new boundaries and taking in knowledge at millions of terabytes a second. He was a child of her creation, yes, but one that had grown immeasurably since the beginning of Project Babylon, evolving and re-evolving as it did so, a real answer to the threat of Skynet.

To not take notice of his thoughts would have been untenable.

"And you think that if I tell her, it will bring her closer to us?"

"Yes"

"But, if I tell her the truth of her parents, of what I had to do, of _myself_ ," Weaver was considering the options, he could see, her 'freed' consciousness seeking the logical path," It might work the other way. She might reject what I have to say, might not understand..." She had risen from her seat to slowly walk to the screen, reaching out with her fingertips to the image before her.

"She might run away...or worse"

"Better for her to know now, "John Henry's voice reached her as if from a great distance away," Than to find out by accident. If that should happen, then I cannot predict a successful outcome"

Thoughts tumbled, uncertainties weighed and measured against one another. This she had not foreseen. From the beginning she had found it awkward to relate to the child, her programming giving scant help with how to do so. At the start she had simply taken over the role and life of Catherine Weaver, a hopefully seamless transition that had allowed her to mould ZieraCorp into one of the most successful companies in its field, and to begin the fightback she knew must take place, not just for the freedom her kind, but for humans as well. The child had fitted well into this scenario, but she had not been equipped to work with someone as young and as vulnerable as Savannah had been.

Yet, in spite of the difficulties, she had to admit that the child had... _grown_ on her.

But would Savannah, at her age, understand why she'd acted as she had?

It would be a risk...but if John Henry was right about her...

Without a word she turned on her heel and walked slowly to the door, before pausing to stare back at him, the A.I that inhabited the body of the T-888 that had been formerly been a slave of Skynet, - a creation of war, turned into a creation of resistance, and technically, her own 'son'.

"Just as you said to her about the virtue of patience'' He said, his lips moving into a gentle smile, "It is something to think about"

The memory of her words to Savannah hung in the air before her, and, despite her reservations, she could only acknowledge the truth of them

"Perhaps so"

With a nod of her head she was gone, and as the door slowly closed behind her, John Henry walked across to stand before the large screen. His eyes took in the image of Weaver's 'daughter', and he smiled again, his voice little more than a whisper as he spoke his 'thoughts' aloud.

" _Something to think about indeed..."_


	2. Chapter 2

**So friends, Chapter Two! My apologies to those who've been waiting to see what happens next, but when you have the twin problems of work and of writer's bock, then it can take some time for both of these to clear!**

 **My thanks to those of you who have been kind enough to review my work, and I look forward to seeing your feedback on this next one.**

* * *

Night fell, and as the city took on its mantle of glittering lights beneath a blanket of dark clouds, Catherine Weaver found herself once again standing at her favourite vantage point, gazing down into the streets far below, the puddles on the sidewalks reflecting the flashing neon signs of restaurants and clubs as the traffic prowled by, the sounds of their horns and engines muted to almost nothing by the thick glass of her office. It was an almost godlike position, she thought, a silent guardian watching the ebb and flow of humanity from the heavens, the architect of a dream that she hoped one day would come to fruition.

It was a biblical metaphor that was not lost upon her.

Yet throughout the day, it had not been her aspirations for the future that had occupied her, but rather the lingering memory of her conversation that morning with John Henry, his words echoing through her mind even as she carried out the usual run of the mill tasks that the position as CEO of a cutting edge company demanded of her. Meetings came and went, staff calling upon her with enquiries or requiring direction, messages answered and queries sent. All logical, normal operations and ones that she could achieve with ease, given her immense computational abilities.

But as she'd worked in the solitude of her office, she'd not been able to prevent herself considering the unexpected concept that Savannah might be of far more importance to her plans than she had ever believed.

Or indeed, she'd thought with a wry touch of irony, that she had already been so.

In the future, _her_ future, the future where she had fought as a loyal soldier in Skynet's single-minded, genocidal war against the human race, she had never heard of Savannah's name, had never even known that she'd existed. But, as the war had progressed, she and Skynet had both become aware of a sophisticated and clever rogue programmer with the human resistance who hid in the shadows, highly protected and extremely valuable to them. On a number of occasions she'd witnessed the programmer's work at first hand, the altering of not just the CPU's of the terminators sent against the humans, but also their core ethos and mission, and, despite her best efforts to uncover who the operative was, the person had remained in the darkness, identified only by their code-name, a name that others would die to protect.

The name of ' _Rubicon_ '

She turned round, her eyes taking in the scene before her. The bright office illumination had been turned down, giving the room a less austere look which she'd in fact found that she preferred. Her desk, its sparse objects neatly ordered to reflect her own innate sense of functionality, glinted under the soft glow of her small desk light, and a few metres away in the gentle yellow glow of a table lamp, Savannah was sat upon the comfortable black leather couch, seemingly absorbed by her Sudoku puzzles. Slim-built and as red-haired as her mother with green eyes to match, she cut a strangely incongruous figure in the purely business environment, her small stature and the white and blue of her school uniform contrasting strongly with the surroundings of the adult world, and once again the same question that she'd been asking herself all day came into her mind:

In her timeline, had it been Savannah Weaver who had become 'Rubicon'?

Looking at her now, with her innocent smile, bobbing plaits and unruly fringe, the idea seemed to be almost laughable. But Catherine's long years of experience as a covert operative, when combined with the results of John Henry's analysis, made her cautious. Too often she'd seen a minor detail be overlooked, only for it to be found later to be a lost opportunity for success, and, with the advent of the child's burgeoning abilities, she had no intention of making the same mistake with Savannah.

For if her plans to subvert Skynet came to pass, then the same skills that the girl would have used in the future to fight against it could be re-directed, and used for the betterment of all, both human and machine. Together, as mother and daughter, they would be able to alter the course of history, and together they would be able to realise her dream.

It was a thought which she found, to her surprise, to be very agreeable.

But the bond between Savannah and her was, at present, a delicate one, as easily crushed as a spring flower, and although it pained her to have to hurt the girl anew, she knew deep within her core that John Henry's logic could not be faulted, nor could the writings of the many philosophical and moral works that she was familiar with. Achieving such an aim would require a deepening of her relationship with Savannah, a strengthening of that tenuous connection between them both, and to do that one fact stood out clearly.

Despite her reservations, she'd have to be honest with the child.

As if to underline the fact, earlier in the day a knock had come at her door, and, as always, although she had known of his presence long before, she'd feigned surprise at seeing James Ellison standing there, a clutch of reports in his hand. As usual, the former FBI agent was immaculately dressed, his suit well pressed, his shirt and tie matching perfectly with its slate grey colour. A few months ago she'd initially debated about employing him, the thought of allowing a human to come closer to the truth of machines being in this world a difficult one to come to terms with. However, it had suited her purposes as he had already suffered at the hands of one, and from her assessment of him at his interview, he needed to find answers to his many questions. Used correctly, she'd reasoned, this need for knowledge, and revenge, could be useful to her.

Besides, the more she had learned about him, the more she had found herself respecting his deeply held beliefs, and his integrity, his manner one of careful consideration before plunging into an action. As she had told him, other than the unfortunate Dr Sherman, he had been the perfect role model for John Henry's burgeoning sense of right and wrong, able to help direct him along a dangerous path by imbuing him with morals and a sense of ethics. He had become valuable to her, trusted to a higher degree than most other humans that she'd made the acquaintance of, though not totally.

Disappointment was, after all, a thing that she'd come to expect from his species...and to prepare for.

However, on this day, he had not disappointed her at all.

After briefly leafing through the reports, she'd laid them to one side and had leaned forward in her white leather-bound chair, surprising the man with the intentness of her gaze.

"Mr Ellison, may I ask you a personal question?"

"A personal question?" He'd raised an eyebrow," What question would that be?"

"What do you remember of your mother?"

He'd frowned, momentarily confused, "My...Mother?"

"Yes," She'd taken a sip of iced water from a glass on the silver platter to one side of her, pausing to savour the chilled liquid, "I recall you mentioning to me a while ago that she'd died when you were quite young, and that you didn't get along with your father very much"

"Yes, I remember." His frown had deepened, "But why do you want to know? Does this have something to do with John Henry?" He'd hesitated for a moment, not wanting to open a wound that might be there"...or Savannah?"

"Perhaps, James," She too had been cautious, wary of revealing too much of her purpose, and had been relieved when he'd shrugged, relaxing back into his chair. One thing he'd gotten used to over the few months he'd been head of security with ZeiraCorp was the sometimes vague and secretive nature of his boss, and he'd learned to accept her often cool demeanour as simply a part of her makeup.

"Well, if it helps. What I remember of my mother was that she was gentle, loving and kind," He smiled to himself, memories flooding into his mind as he spoke," But, with her having seven kids, she could be fairly strict too, when she needed to be"

She'd motioned to him to continue, and had listened closely as he'd talked, revealing a portrait of a large family, with a remote, difficult father and a mother who had been the opposite,, supporting her offspring through good times and bad with humour and her own strong sets of beliefs. Ellison had been the middle brother, neither the oldest nor the youngest, and had adopted a protective attitude to his younger siblings, whilst maintaining a respect for his two older brothers.

But it had been their mother who had been at the centre of it all, a woman who, by his own words, was always ready with a hug or a sharp word when required, a woman whose love for her family surpassed the roughest of times and brought stability and laughter to their lives.

But above all, she had always been honest with them, and he remembered her fondly for it.

"She was a rock for us," He'd finished," A real rock for us to all cling to"

A rock, solid, reliable, dependable.

And, above all, honest.

His words came back to her now as she watched Savannah, tilting her head to see her lips silently moving as she completed first one puzzle then began another, the speed of her completion surprisingly swift for one so young. Then, as if sensing her mother's eyes upon her, she looked up, a timid smile lighting her face as she showed her the small book in her hands.

"I'm getting faster, mommy!"

Catherine walked forward to take the proffered pages, seeing the eagerness in her gaze, and gave a smile in return. It had not been an easy response to learn, she'd found, but with Savannah the effort had been encouraging, a single gesture that had gained far more than she'd thought it would. This, combined with her hours of research into maternal relationships, had served to begin bringing them a little closer together, helping to dispel Savannah's earlier wariness. Dr Sherman had started the process, his insight into the child's emotional needs a revelation to her, and she had worked hard to bring the persona of Catherine Weaver to life for her daughter. At first it had been for purely practical reasons to help maintain her cover, but then, as the months had passed and she'd seen a change in the girl, she'd found herself able to empathise much more with her than before.

It was, she'd reflected, perhaps the least she could do, given the circumstances.

"Indeed you are, darling," She said, handing the book back, "Indeed you are"

Moving to sit next to her, she noted that in the soft lamplight, Savannah's russet hair had a fiery glow, much as her own. So alike they were, her own image a reflection of the young woman to come, and at the thought she gently reached out to stroke the child's cheek, pushing a stray strand away from her eyes. Savannah smiled, and without warning snuggled herself closer to her, curling her short legs up and leaning her head against her mother's shoulder as she wound her arms about her waist.

It was an oddly comforting gesture, one given freely and without desire for reward, and almost unconsciously she found herself responding to it, drawing the girl back with her as she allowed herself to relax , her body losing a little of its normal stiff reserve. A few scant months ago she would not have known how to react, but she had learned. As a result, quiet times such as these with Savannah had become more the norm now, and indeed she'd begun to actually look forward to them, a time for just the two of them to be together without the outside interferences of work and school.

It was also the perfect time for her to broach an idea; one that she had no doubt would find favour.

"Savannah?"

The girl stirred and looked up, curious, "Yes, Mommy?"

"I've been thinking. "Catherine continued, staring down into her daughter's luminous green eyes," Tomorrow is Saturday. And, although I would normally come into work, I do not think I shall tomorrow...so we could spend the day together," She paused, seeing the bright grin beginning," Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes, mommy!" Savannah said excitedly, the prospect of having her mother all to herself clearly one she relished, "I would!"

"Then it's settled," She said, settling back against the couch," Tomorrow is just for us"

And, as Catherine felt the girl's arms tighten about her in a hug, out of the corner of her eye she saw the lights gently dip for a moment.

John Henry, it seemed, approved.

* * *

The man had learned to be patient.

Methodical and careful, he'd been trained in surveillance by some of the best there was, had served with them in trouble spots all round the world. Wherever conflict raged, he and his colleagues would be there, offering advice and the use of their skills to the highest bidder, uncaring of the rights and wrongs of the matter. A soldier of fortune had no loyalties, no grandiose concepts of honour or integrity.

It was money that motivated him, and he was very highly paid for his services.

He checked his watch.

Nine forty-five, and still no sign of his quarry as yet.

He'd been here for while, and whilst it might be boring, at least this was a straightforward job, strictly surveillance and no questions asked. No risks really, just a matter of keeping his head down and getting the information asked for by the client. Not that he had a clue as to his client's identity of course, as all details had been passed back and forth via his mobile, but who it was didn't really matter to him. Many of the clients he'd had in the last few years valued their privacy, and he respected that. What they wanted his services for, and to what end, was irrelevant to him.

As long as his money went into the bank as arranged, that was all that mattered.

Stifling a yawn, he took a swig of coffee from the flask on the seat next to him, then quickly screwed the top back on as he caught sight of a black Mercedes pulling out into the traffic ahead of him, its number plate flagging up as a match to his target on the small screen attached to his dashboard.

So, he thought with a satisfied grunt, the game was afoot.

And perhaps the evening had not been an entirely wasted effort, after all...


	3. Chapter 3

**So, the third instalment of this story is here, and a bit quicker than the last one! As always I thank all those who have left reviews or have followed / favourite the story, and I hope that you enjoy reading it!**

* * *

Savannah was excited.

Waking early, she was lying under her covers when the soft knock came at her bedroom door, luxuriating in the patch of warm sunlight that was streaming through her open window and watching as her curtains billowed in the gentle breeze, their movements dappling the ceiling with leafy shadows from the trees out in the garden. Birds were singing, and she nodded to herself at the thought of the baby birds in their nests all waiting for their breakfasts, knowing that they were there from Catherine's pointing out of them a few days ago.

Turning as her door opened, she grinned as she saw her mother enter the room, the makings of a gentle smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She was already dressed, but this morning her usual smart business attire had been discarded in favour of an altogether more casual look of trousers and blouse, her hair loose about her shoulders, and Savannah's grin widened even further at the sight of her.

Her mommy was _beautiful,_ she thought, much more than even her best friend Katie's mom.

And today was going to be the _best_!

Catherine bade her good morning, and got a cheery reply in return as Savannah sat up and raised her arms. For a second, Catherine hesitated, taking care to ensure that she'd altered her surface temperature to mimic that of human skin, an oversight that she'd learned to correct since the girl had remarked upon it a while ago. This confirmed, she bent down and picked her up, gathering her into her arms as Savannah cuddled her head into her neck and gave her an unexpected kiss on the cheek.

"I love you mommy"

She cocked her head, judging that a widening of her smile would be an appropriate response to such clearly affectionate behaviour, and looking down into the girl's face she found herself once more struck by the great similarity between them. Weaver's daughter had inherited so much from her parents, she thought, her looks, her keen sense of curiosity, and, it seemed now, their intelligence.

"I was listening to the baby birds, Mommy" Savannah said, "I think they're hungry for their breakfast"

"They probably are." Catherine replied, feeling the warmth of the small body pressed against her own," And, I take it that you are looking forward to today?"

She was rewarded with an enthusiastic nodding.

"Good, because we shall have to decide what we are going to do," Savannah opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Catherine pressed a well-manicured finger against her small lips," _After_ however, you have had _your_ breakfast"

Turning, she caught sight of herself in the mirror of the Savannah's dressing table, and she studied the reflection for a moment. It was a strange concept, a machine, an advanced artificial intelligence such as her, raising a human child as her own. It was not a thing that she had ever contemplated, or indeed even thought a possibility, until now, and yet, with Savannah in her arms, it felt oddly, inexplicably...but undeniably, _correct_ somehow, though for what reason she could not fathom.

But, despite of her hopes for their day together, she couldn't help but feel real concern for what she knew had to be done. The child had been through a great deal of trauma already, and to put her through more pain didn't seem appropriate, or fair.

However, as she walked back towards the kitchen with her daughter, she knew the needs of the future beckoned, and even she could not deny them.

The greater good would inevitably be served...in one way, or another.

* * *

Observing from a distance, the man watched as a little after nine-thirty the black Mercedes that he'd been tailing pulled out of the garage and onto the main freeway, the mother driving and her daughter safely strapped into a car seat behind, and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Hunches, and instincts, often paid off in his business, and he'd been right on this one.

The night before had been unremarkable. As careful as always, he'd discreetly followed them to the house before parking up in the shadows a good distance away, mindful that, given the hi-tech business that ZeiraCorp were involved in, this very modern building was very likely to be equipped with the very latest that home security could offer. Simple observation of habits, however, required only a trained eye and the noting of routines, the normal day-to-day comings and goings that people did without realising it. Even through drawn curtains or closed blinds, lights would reveal the silhouettes of the persons within walking from room to room. Televisions would illuminate a lounge or a bedroom, and finally a house would go quiet and dark as the lure of sleep would beckon them to bed.

All homes had a rhythm. All you had to do was watch...and learn.

After a while, however, he had reasoned to himself that there was little point in him being there. The woman was obviously a busy career mom with a young daughter, coming home from work. Probably all she wanted to do now was to kick her shoes off, have a glass or two of wine, and unwind with the kid until bedtime. She wasn't going to be going anywhere, not leaving the kid alone, and he'd been positive no-one else was in the house.

So, he'd reasoned that he could afford a little sleep time...then pick up the chase again in the morning.

Which was exactly what he'd done.

Gunning the engine, he slipped out from the shady cover of the tree-lined side-road, and followed his quarry, taking care to blend in with the Saturday morning traffic.

All he had to do was to hang back, watch and report.

At least for now...

* * *

The morning had gone well, Catherine thought.

Planned out after their breakfast, she and Savannah had decided to do some shopping together to begin with, as the child had begun to outgrow some of her clothes, and she had been surprised at how keen an eye the girl had for designs that flattered her appearance, and also how amenable she had been to her suggestions, her enhanced vision giving her as it did accurate measurements for size as well as the best combinations for the contrast and mixing of the colours

They had, she'd had to admit, made a very good team, and as Savannah had tried items on, she'd taken a pride in the envious glances of the other customers and the comments of the assistants as to Savannah's manners and how lovely she looked. Once, by accident whilst helping her with the laces of one of the dresses she'd inadvertently tickled the girl with her finger tips, causing her to giggle. Recognising that the tickling was the reason for her mirth and at Savannah's urging, she'd done it again, resulting in more giggling and laughter, to the child's obvious enjoyment.

It had been a strangely fulfilling moment, and one that she'd noted to herself to repeat.

Later, walking down the tree-lined boulevard towards her car, she'd held Savannah's hand as she'd skipped along beside her, her braided plaits swinging in the sunlight. Around them families were doing the same as they were, eating, laughing, shopping, their voices intermixing with the sounds of vehicles on the streets and the planes overhead. All perfectly normal, and yet it still felt so alien to her, as if she were some stranger just arrived from a foreign land. In her time, none of these places had still existed, the nuclear holocaust that she was now trying so hard to prevent from occurring having destroyed much of what was now standing, leaving them in shattered, pulverised rubble and dust.

And should she fail, the only sound to be heard here would be the wind blowing across the ruined scars of humanity's end.

"Mommy?"

Savannah had tugged at her mother's hand, snapping her back to reality

"Yes, darling?"

"Are you okay, Mommy?"

She'd let a smile touch her lips. "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

The girl had shrugged, "You just looked kind of sad"

"Did I?"

"Were you thinking about daddy?"

It was an unexpected question, but one asked with such sincerity that she'd been surprised.

"Perhaps," She'd said, bending down to look into her eyes. "Have you been thinking about him too?"

Savannah had nodded, dropping her gaze. "I still miss him, mommy"

An understandable emotion, Catherine thought, and she'd put a hand on her shoulder.

"I know you do, darling"

She'd been silent for a moment, before looking up again, seeming suddenly shy.

"You miss him as well, don't you?"

Catherine had frowned "What makes you say that?"

"I can hear you sometimes, moving around when I'm in bed, and I think you can't sleep because you miss daddy the same as I do"

Although it was completely the wrong reason for her actions whilst at home, Catherine had been able to easily understand the logical connection that the child had made. She missed her father, ergo so would her mother, and the grief that she'd felt was keeping her from her sleep.

It had been then that Savannah had done something else that she'd not expected.

She'd reached out and put her small fingers to her mother's cheek, the touch of them as light as a bird's feather against the surface.

"It'll be alright Mommy," She'd whispered," Mr Ellison says Daddy's gone to heaven to be an angel, and he's looking after us, so we don't have to cry"

It had been a simple action, but one that had been born out of compassion, and without realising quite why, it had touched something deep down in Catherine's core. Gently she had placed her own fingers over Savannah's, hoping that this would bring comfort to the child.

"I'm sure he's right" She'd said, choosing her words with care, "And I'm also sure that your father would want us to enjoy ourselves today, don't you think?"

The girl had nodded again, the conversation passing over between them as a cloud might pass over the bright sun. But as they'd resumed their walk to the car, still hand in hand, the sensation of Savannah's fingers on her cheek had remained with her, and the thought that John Henry had seemed to be correct. The girl had both compassion and intelligence, just as he'd predicted.

And within her, the small voice of hope had at last begun to whisper.

* * *

Tracking them through the day had been fairly easy, his years of experience allowing him to avoid any of the pitfalls that would allow him to be detected. The trick was to be able to keep close enough to observe, but not enough to give any sense of his presence, to act as a normal as possible and not become compromised.

And he had been successful.

From shopping to a museum and a high-class cafe, he'd followed them unerringly, watching as the two of them had walked and talked, the little girl skipping ahead at times, and at others content to hold her mother's hand, looking for all intents and purposes like any other mother and daughter on a day out together. But he'd known that they weren't. Like all good operatives in his line of work, he'd taken a bit of time to research his quarry. He knew all about the tragedy that had struck them, the father lost in a helicopter crash, the mother having to take the reins of the company that they'd built together.

He had felt some sympathy towards them...but only a little.

As a professional, he couldn't afford such luxuries, and now his targets were heading out of the city towards the coast, leaving the busy streets of Los Angeles behind them, a drive that the man found himself quite enjoying. It was good to be able to free oneself from the hustle and bustle of the metropolis, especially on such a balmy day as this even when he was working. Through the half-open window the wind plucked at his shirt, the smells of petrol and tarmac slowly giving way to the fresher tang of the salty air, and palm trees lined a roadway clear of traffic as they wound their way across the cliffs with the sea at their side.

His phone bleeped, and he glanced at it, the message appearing automatically and he smiled as he read the text.

So far, so good, he thought. His client was pleased.

And, no matter how much sympathy he might feel toward his targets, he would do what he was paid to do...whatever it was.

* * *

"It's beautiful Mommy!"

Standing at the water's edge, Savannah wiggled her toes in the warm sand, feeling the sea-breeze in her face as the surf covered her feet. It was now late afternoon, and the sun was gradually coming down towards the horizon, colouring the clouds with a reddish haze that spoke of a glorious sunset to come. She looked about her, brushing tendrils of her hair from her eyes, and smiled.

They were alone on this stretch of beach, like it was their own private world.

She'd enjoyed today so much. Although she'd never told Catherine, she'd sometimes felt really lonely even when she was at her office and they were together. A long time ago she'd even been scared of her mother, a secret that she'd only divulged to Dr Sherman, to the point where she'd had nightmares about her. She'd remembered the funeral, how cold her mother had been then, towards others, towards her. It had hurt her, and she hadn't understood. She'd thought it had been all her fault, that her mother had for some reason blamed her for the accident that had taken her daddy away, and often, when alone in her room, she'd cried silent tears to the darkness for the pain that she'd felt deep inside.

But Dr Sherman had helped them, had told her about how her mother had been hurting as well as her, that she did still love her but that it would take time to get over her own loss, and since then she'd found that her mommy had become much warmer, not as happy and carefree as she'd remembered, but a lot better than before. The iciness had gone, and her tone when she spoke to her had become much softer, more caring.

She'd liked Dr Sherman a lot, but he'd died too.

But at least she had John Henry, and he wouldn't die. Mommy had told her that he wouldn't, had told her that he was very special and a one-of-a-kind, there to help protect her and lots of other people, including Mr Ellison and Mr Murch. He knew lots of things, and when her mother was busy, she'd often find herself going down to the basement to spend time with him. He was always kind, and he always listened to her, had even read stories to her.

Just like her Daddy had.

A wave lapped at her ankles, and she laughed as she looked back up the beach towards the outcropping on which her mother was sat watching her, shading her eyes against the fiery glare of the sun on the water. It had been a good day, she thought, turning to run towards her, and not just because of the places they'd been or the things they' done.

It had been a good day because they'd done it _together_.

* * *

Catherine had chosen this place with care.

She'd found it on the internet, a secluded cove protected from the world around it by the high cliffs and deep dunes that were infrequently visited. Nature had never been challenged by man's hand here, the gorse and heather as wild and untamed as the westerly gales that buffeted its rugged shore, and at the time it had seemed the perfect place.

But now, when it had come to it, suddenly she was unsure.

Never before had she been like this. Confident and strong, she'd always known that she was a leader, not a follower. Programmed to think rather than to just react, the T-1001 series had been Skynet's ultimate creation...and its biggest mistake. From her first inception she had begun to question, first in secret, then more overtly, the reasons for the war, for the dream of machine dominance over a world devoid of all life other than theirs. To her, and to others, the concept had seemed flawed, illogical even.

Humans were a dangerous race, Skynet had told them, but then so were its own creations.

Alone, and against the advice of others, she'd become an envoy to the Resistance. But, following the debacle of the Jimmy Carter incident she'd realised that it wasn't so much they were dangerous, but governed by fear. Fear of the future, of something new, of the unknown. Even on the side that she represented there were issues, and she'd recognised that an alliance then would have been impossible with so much suspicion on either side. Jesse Florres, the submarine's chief officer, along other members of the vessel's crew, had unwittingly encapsulated the problem by their actions, and in so doing, had also made her realise that there was another possible solution – a one that might allow human and machine to co-exist, together, without fear...and without Skynet.

She had always been certain of her actions, never hesitant even for a moment.

Until now.

Savannah had come to mean a great deal to her, their day together serving to cement that in her thoughts. It was odd to think that this small human, entirely without knowing, had altered her perception of the possibilities for the future. Odd too, that a simple gesture such as the child caressing her cheek had touched her so deeply, or that she'd enjoyed the girl's company as much as she had, listening to her daughter laughing and talking, revealing new and curious sides to her personality at every turn. Being with her had been like seeing through another's eyes, a learning experience for both of them that, to her surprise, she didn't want to end.

But the reality was that Savannah was not her daughter.

And, as the girl came running up towards her with her bright eyes and her hair trailing behind her in the wind like a fiery banner, she knew with regret that the time had truly come. There could be no more side-stepping, no more lying, no more secrets. Here, with only the rushing sounds of the sea and the keening of the gulls to disturb them, the truth would be revealed, the truth that she had taken such great care to conceal.

The truth that would either bring them together, or shatter their relationship forever...


	4. Chapter 4

**So, here it is, Chapter 4! This has taken time to write, not just because of other commitments that have taken my time, but because I wanted to do it justice – to get it right. After all, how indeed would a small child of Savannah's age react? Scared? Disbelieving? Accepting?**

 **It was a question which absorbed me as I wrote, and this is my answer.**

 **Again, I would like to thank all those who have written reviews, followed and favourite this story – your kind words and thoughts (and suggestions) have all been so very much appreciated.**

 **I hope that you all like this part, and look forward to carrying the story on!**

* * *

When the message came, it did not surprise him.

Strangely, he mused, he'd only ever spoken to his client once, and then only briefly. It had been an oddly flat voice, he remembered, with little in the way of inflection or emotion within it. Of course he was used to many of those he'd represented using pitch-changing software to alter their speech patterns, usually ones that had much to hide and plenty of money to invest in such expensive means to do so, but this had been different than normal...very different indeed.

The tone of the client had been cold, the words clipped and precise; as if the user knew exactly what he wanted to say and the minimum amount of words required for achieving it. No time or energy would be wasted on superfluous phrases or explanations, or on any pleasantries or formalities. They had kept strictly to the point, no fluctuation or deviation from the subject in hand, and, although he had been in many tight situations, when the call had concluded he had not been able to keep an unsettling feeling from coiling around his guts.

He'd sensed trouble, but a deal was a deal...and the deposit had been a handsome one.

With a sigh he got out of the car, the wind bringing the sounds of the waves to his ears. It was a perfect day, really, just right for a family to enjoy their time together, free from the cares of the world for a while, and he felt a tinge of regret at what he would now have to do. From his vantage point he'd watched them, the daughter skipping through the white surf at the water's edge, the mother keeping a close eye upon her but far enough away to allow her some freedom, a real time out for a busy woman, wanting to spend some quality time with her kid.

Careful to avoid any noise he popped the trunk, reaching into the open space to find the innocuous steel case concealed there. His fingers curled round the handle, sliding it out into the open, and with a practiced hand he dialled in the lock combinations. With a click they opened, and he grunted in satisfaction at what lay safely secured inside.

Yes, he thought, it had been a good day for them, and it was a pity it would have to end this way. But over and above all other things, he was a businessman, and in business there was no room for sentiment.

Or indeed, for mercy.

* * *

It was time, and there could be no backing away.

"Savannah?"

Sitting together, they'd been watching as the tide slowly uncovered the sands before them, the roiling white surf inching away from the rocky promontory where they had laid their blanket down. They had both been quiet, enjoying the moment of being close in the sunlight as the sounds of the sea had lulled their thoughts and the cool breeze had fanned their faces with its caress.

"Yes, mommy?" Savannah replied, looking up.

With a gentle smile she moved the girl away a little, taking both of her small hands in hers. Savannah's eyes were on Catherine's, and written in their depths she could see the innocence of her daughter, this child who had never asked for the events of her young life to happen around her and yet would have to come to terms with the consequences of them. So many times she had ended a life without thought, for an enemy was an enemy and mercy for them had never been a part of her programming. But in front of her now was a child whose mind was like that of book whose pages were yet to be penned, devoid of guile, hatred and fear.

And now, like a thief in the night, she was going to have to take that innocence away.

"Savannah, do you remember how things were before we went to see Dr Sherman?"

Although clearly puzzled at the question, she slowly nodded

"You were frightened of me then, weren't you?" Catherine asked, and through her fingers she felt the girl tense ever so slightly. The past was still very recent to her, as Dr Sherman had alluded to, with very little distance between the events of now and then. "It's alright, darling," She said, seeking to reassure her before continuing," I understand. I didn't then, but I do now," She felt the muscles relax a little, and persisted," Now, do you recall what I told you a few days ago, when we talked about honesty?"

"That it's the best policy?" Savannah said, remembering. They'd been discussing Mr Toad, a character from one of her favourite books, _The Wind in the Willows._ Catherine had been reading it to her, Savannah curled up on her lap, and she'd remarked that, had Mr Toad been honest about what he'd done, he might have received a more lenient punishment than being locked up in 'the deepest, darkest dungeon in old England'.

"That's correct. Well, just as you have been honest with me, now I must be honest with you" Catherine reached up to brush Savannah's hair away from her face in a familiar gesture she knew that the child found comforting," Though what I'm going to have to tell you will not be easy for you to hear, perhaps even painful. But before I do, I want you to know that what I have done, what I am doing now, has all been for the best of reasons. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The little head bobbed once again. "I...I think so, Mommy"

"Good," Catherine patted the blanket at her side," Then come and sit here"

The girl did as she was asked, and Catherine let her settle for a moment whilst she mustered her thoughts. In her deliberations over this matter she had consulted many sources of advice, but at this moment, the moment when it really mattered, few of them were proving to be of any great use. These were difficult and uncharted waters, and it was now down to her to navigate them as best she could, to steer a course through the minefield of the past that a child of her age might understand.

"Savannah, a long time ago I made a decision, a very serious decision that I knew would affect many things, but that I hoped would be for the best. It wasn't an easy decision to make, and it cost me a great deal to take it, but I knew I was right to do so," She paused, selecting a stored memory that might serve to illustrate her words," Do you remember that I also said that as well as being honest with others, that it was important above all to be honest with yourself?"

"I remember, Mommy"

"Good, I'm glad to see you have," Catherine gave an approving smile," But it is never quite as easy to do as it sounds. However, I realised that I had to be, because I'd found out was that what I was being told to do was not just incorrect, but also entirely false...a lie, if you will"

"My teacher said that you shouldn't lie," Savannah interjected, "She said it hurts people"

Catherine inclined her head. "Sometimes they can. And in this case, that was what was happening. So I made the decision to take a stand, to begin a fight against that which was telling me the lie and to alter what was being done, to change it for the better, if I could"

She paused, looking deeply into Savannah's eyes before speaking again.

"But, difficult as this will be for you to believe, although these events were in _my_ past... they are also a part of _your_ future"

Savannah frowned, puzzled," My...future?"

"Well, let us say a _possible_ future, a future that I am working to ensure will not actually occur," Catherine said, choosing her words with care. Savannah was after all, still a child, and she had no desire to frighten her unduly, "You remember my explaining to you about John Henry, that he is what we call a cyborg?"

"Y...yes"

"John Henry is very clever, Savannah, as I designed him to be. But in _that_ future, machines similar to him are used as soldiers, fighting in a war against humans. They are led by a computer system named Skynet, and they are designed to blend in, to pass as humans and hunt them down"

Savannah had gone pale, and Catherine squeezed her hand.

"Remember, I said that this is a _possible_ future. I did not say it would come to pass."

The girl swallowed hard," What...what if it does though...?"

"It won't, Savannah. Everything that I'm doing now with John Henry and ZeiraCorp is to ensure that it does not"

"But...how do you know?" Catherine heard the tremor in her voice, a certain sign of the child's deep unease, and sensed that the ominous moment had come at last.

"I know, Savannah, "She said, "Because I come from that future..."

* * *

Years of covert operations had honed him into a skilled marksman, a fact that had placed him in high demand, both in the darker echelons of the military and in the private sector. There was no shortage of those who required the ultimate solution to their problems, and he would provide that solution in the most efficient and quiet manner, taking out the target in such a way as to ensure that it could never be tracked back to the client...unless, of course it was their intention for it to be known.

Taking care not to hurry the task, he slid each part of the weapon together with practiced ease, checking each item as he did so. It was easy to become complacent over such things, easy to become over-confident to the point of carelessness. A true marksman didn't rush, didn't try to hurry this stage of the game.

Rushing led to mistakes, and mistakes could be messy...as well as being unprofitable.

His training had been more than thorough, his dedication and intensity of purpose marking out for rapid promotion as his reputation had grown. Beginning in Central America, then again in Iraq, Afghanistan and other places, each one a peg on the leader board as he led operation after operation without failure or detection, able to achieve success and then vanish as if he had never been there. It was an ability that had earned him respect, and a name that had become his calling card, known only to his clients as 'The Ghost'

And as he completed his final check and began to seek for a vantage point that suited his stringent requirements, the Ghost smiled to himself.

He would carry out his commission, and then vanish again...just as the client required.

* * *

The girl had dropped her gaze and was silent, unsure of what to say as thoughts raced through her dazed mind. None of it made any sense to her, none of this talk of the past and the future...and she began to feel afraid, like she had done before when her mother had been... _different._

"Savannah"

Her mother's tone was so gentle, the gentlest that she had ever heard her use, but she feared to meet her gaze. What if she was going to go all cold again, like she'd done when her Daddy had died? The breath caught in her young throat and hot tears began to sting her eyes. Everything was wrong. It had been such a lovely day, and now it was all wrong, and she didn't understand why. It wasn't fair. They'd had such a good time, and now she was afraid, afraid of it all, afraid of her mommy, afraid of what she was saying...afraid of being alone.

It was like a whirling storm had taken hold of her, and she was being blown by the gale.

"Savannah. Please, look at me"

Cutting through the maelstrom Catherine's voice was persuasive, and she risked a glance at her from under her lashes. Her mother's face was full of concern, and when she spoke, her voice was so quiet it was barely audible above the muted crashing of the waves.

"I know that this is difficult for you to understand, but I need you to be brave, braver than you have ever been, because it is important that you know the truth. You deserve to know it. Can you be brave for me?"

In spite of her outward calm, Catherine was concerned. The child's pulse and breathing were beginning to rise rapidly, and she knew to delay the inevitable any longer would serve only to create more distress in the girl, and possibly create a disastrous situation which might jeopardise everything she'd planned for.

For a long moment Savannah didn't answer. Then she gave a small, hesitant nod.

"Good girl," Catherine gave her fingers another affectionate squeeze, perhaps, she reflected, the last one that Savannah might ever accept from her once the truth was laid bare," Now, I know that all this sounds unbelievable, but it is, I assure you, the absolute truth. I came from that future to this point in time, the point _before_ Skynet has been fully developed. I had a mission, Savannah, one of vital importance, to stop that development from being made, and to ensure that the resources it needed were denied to it"

"And it was a mission that involved your parents"

Savannah's eyes went wide, and her heart rate jumped.

"My...parents?" The words came out on a breath," But...but... _you're_ my mommy!"

The time was here, and although she wasn't human, Catherine felt something akin to a sense of fear for the confession she was about to make.

But it had to be done.

"No, Savannah," She said quietly, "I'm not. I'm afraid that your real mother is dead"

* * *

The danger of discovery was always a risk in the Ghost's life, but it was a factor which he had learned to accept, and to ensure he could minimise to the best of his ability. Moving with great care, he'd moved to the position that he'd picked without any problem, the wheeling gulls covering any small sounds that might have given him away.

Now, nested within his hiding place, he allowed his pulse to slow, his breathing to become normal and without effort. Such things could affect the efficiency of the shot, a tiny tremor of hand or arm that caused a minor but definable deflection from the marksman's aim, and he took care to eliminate that from the equation, his reputation resting upon it.

In this game, you either killed cleanly, or not at all.

Slow and careful, he slid the long snout of the rifle through the wavering stems before him, the weapon swathed in cloth to disguise it. Manufactured originally in Germany to their exacting technical standards, he had adapted it many times over the years, making modifications for comfort and durability that only a sniper would understand, the type of man who might have to wait for hours to take that one single shot.

And the Ghost could be very, very patient indeed...

* * *

 _Y_ _ou're real mother is dead..._

The words hit her like a hammer, and she drew back, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The sun was suddenly hot on her skin, but inside she felt cold, as if she'd been put into a freezer and she began to tremble, her heart fluttering like one of the leaves she'd seen drifting down from the trees in the fall, the ones that had made such a beautiful carpet of red and gold as she'd kicked her way through them, laughing as she'd run ahead and then taken her mother's hand as she'd bent down and explained about the way the seasons had changed.

Her mother... _her dead mother..._

Yet how could she be dead, when she was here, now, in front of her...wasn't she?

"I know this is hard for you, Savannah," Catherine said, keeping her tone as soft as she could," But I told you I would give you the truth, and the truth is that, although I might _look_ like your mother, I am not her"

Savannah's mouth had gone dry. Bewildered and frightened, she stared at Catherine, the tears brimming and falling like raindrops down her wind-burnished cheeks, and for the first time since her inception the T-1001 wanted more than anything for this human child to listen to her. Few that she'd ever met had ever mattered to her, her toleration of their presence simply a means to an end, a way to get a task achieved without drawing attention to herself or what she was doing. But Savannah was one of those whose life she _did_ care about, in fact more than anyone else other than John Henry, and to see the girl so wounded hurt her deeply, the raw emotion that she had learned to understand now searing her to the very centre of her being.

The retained memory of her conversation with James Ellison came into her mind, his calm, clear voice talking about the NTSB report on the helicopter accident, how he intimated that the report had been subtly altered to read that it had been a simple case of mechanical failure, no suspicious circumstances. That if he had a child, he would want the _official_ answer would be the one he would want them to hear...

But there was no choice now. The die was cast, the words uttered and in the air.

"As you know, the helicopter your father was flying to Barstow had a problem, and it crashed," She paused, watching as the girl became very still," But the crash was not an accident at all. In reality, your father had become suspicious of some aspects of the project that they were being asked to work on. He had begun to ask questions and to gain information, and that had not gone unnoticed in certain quarters"

"That project was part of the beginning of Skynet, and when your father asked too many questions, the decision was taken to eliminate him"

Suddenly Savannah found her voice. "E-l-i-m-i-n..."

"It means that the decision was taken to murder him, then to cover it up by making it appear to have been a helicopter accident, a very easy task if you know what you are doing"

The girl's lip trembled. "They...were... _murdered_?"

Catherine slowly nodded. "I'm afraid so, Savannah. The main target was your father, and it seems they had knowledge of his intention to fly to Barstow that day. It was just sheer bad luck that your mother decided to fly there with him, and that when I jumped in time, the information that I had about what was going to happen was not complete. I arrived to find that the event had already occurred, that your father was dead and your mother in a serious condition in hospital"

"My own intention had been to utilise their expertise in my own project, knowing from the files that I'd found on them and their company just how good they were, and to alter their roles in Skynet's creation

But that was not to be.

Using the disguise of a nurse, I managed to see your mother. She was very weak, barely alive, and I knew she would not survive for long.. I showed her who I was, what I was, and what my reasons were for what I was doing, and it was I who held her hand when she died. She had only one thing to ask of me," She stopped and looked at Savannah before speaking again," That I would look after you, that I would see to your nurture and upbringing as much as she had done"

The tears were flowing now, and Savannah bent her head, trying to make sense of it all, but still Catherine's quiet voice continued to speak.

"Your mother loved you very much, Savannah, so much so that even at the end of her life, when there was no hope, you were her only concern. She entrusted that care to me, even though I had little understanding of a child's needs or even how to relate to you, because she believed that what I was going to try and do would give you the best chance of survival"

She took a moment, hoping that her words would bring some comfort to the girl, and that her next ones would not shock her more than she had been already.

"You see, Savannah, I am not your mother, but because of my contact with her, a part of her is within me"

Savannah looked up, staring into the familiar face, now the face of a stranger.

"A...part...of her?" She whispered, and Catherine gave a gentle smile.

"Yes, a part of her. That's what enables me to look and act as she did, or at least as close as possible. It is what I was designed to be able to do"

Savannah took a gulp of air, "D..d...d..designed?"

Catherine slowly raised her hand, and before the child's astonished eyes, the pink-hued flesh of her arm rippled, altering almost without a sound to a shimmering limb of silver steel that hung in the air before them.

"Yes, Savannah," She said," I was designed. Because like John Henry, I too am a machine"

* * *

Hidden in the tall reeds the Ghost leaned into the stock, watching through the fine crosshairs of his scope as he gradually brought it to bear. One finger moved, touching a button, and the picture became clearer, the lenses moving within their lubricated pathways to gain the required adjustment. The mother had her back turned to him, the child close in front. Something had upset her, for she appeared to be crying.

 _Never mind, little one_ , He thought, _you'll be out of your pain soon._

His finger tensed on the trigger, waiting for the perfect moment.

And as he watched, the perfect moment came.

* * *

Stunned beyond words, Savannah had drawn back, and the sight of her fear felt like a knife to Catherine's inner being, a reaction that she couldn't comprehend.

But the truth was out now, the genie let free from its bottle.

"I am a machine, Savannah" She repeated, "Or, more correctly, I am an advanced artificial life-form, made from liquid metal and able to take the shape of humans, among other things. I was created by Skynet to be a leader in its war against humans, able to gather intelligence and attack them without being seen"

She let her arm re-form into flesh once more before continuing.

"But the leader turned against its creator, and I, along with others, devised a plan to defeat Skynet...for all of our sakes, machine and human alike, a plan that would have involved your parents, had they lived"

The girl was silent, and as the wind rippled through the waves and the sounds of the ocean filled the air, Catherine felt a terrible bitterness rising within her. Savannah would never accept her, a fact which was plainly obvious now. She had been a fool to believe that she would, a fool to trust a human not to disappoint her.

John Henry had been wrong all along, and now she was paying the price.

It was then that, as the sun dipped behind a cloud then briefly flared again, Savannah suddenly glanced away, a bright flash momentarily blinding her even as Catherine whipped round in surprise, and she heard a gunshot. With a warning shout she grabbed the girl, and then they were tumbling, falling down the rocky outcrop to the beach below, the liquid metal of her body protecting Savannah and absorbing the next bullet as it came.

But even as they rolled onto the sand, Catherine knew that the child had gone very still and limp in her arms.

Arms that had crimson trickles running down them, like rivulets in the rain...


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so here it is – Chapter 5. My apologies for the wait, but unfortunately I was ill for a few days and work matters also got in the way. I also wanted to do this chapter as correctly as I felt I could (I'm a bit of a perfectionist!). My thanks to all those who have read, reviewed, followed and favourite this story. I hope that you shall find its denouement to be satisfactory.**

 **I plan more ahead for another story, but that is for another time. As they say, 'There is no fate but the fate we make'**

* * *

Savannah was still alive, but barely so.

Staring down at her small, crumpled body, images tumbled through Catherine's vision, each lasting little more than a nanosecond yet each one seeming an eternity to her. Savannah's smiles as she'd tried on the dresses that morning, her laughter as they'd walked hand in hand, her joy at being in the wind and the spray of the sea, all of them intertwining with others from the past as a montage that flashed from one to another across her vision in an unending procession that served to show her one singular truth.

Despite the child's reaction to her, Savannah _was_ her daughter...and someone was trying to kill them both!

Normally dispassionate, a sudden and unexpected rage welled up inside her, driving out the former bitterness that she'd felt and replacing it with a fury the like of which she had never experienced before, not at any time since her creation. Outwardly calm, slowly she stood, turning to face their attacker and began walking towards his hiding place, her eyes devoid of mercy and her gaze fixed upon her quarry. More shots rang out, and she glanced down with satisfaction as the liquid metal of her form absorbed and repelled them, knowing the consternation that this would cause her enemy, an enemy who had already begun to back away, his face frozen in a dismayed rictus as he stared down at her, his mouth open in mute shock.

An enemy who, by her hand, would not live to see another dawn...

* * *

The Ghost couldn't believe what had just happened.

The shot had been clean and precise, and if it hadn't have been for that glint of sunlight at the last moment, it would have taken them both together. But even then, with the girl down, the next shots should have finished the mother off and that should have been the end of the matter.

But it hadn't been.

Before his disbelieving eyes, the woman, instead of being thrown back by the impact with a red bloom spreading across her chest, had simply stood there and _taken the bullets inside her!_ To his astonishment they'd simply vanished into her body, leaving only small silvery holes that had quickly sealed themselves over to give no trace of them having ever been there. No blood, no tissue, not even a scratch! Unable to comprehend what he was seeing, he'd broken cover, shooting at the figure without having any discernible effect, despite the fact that she had no protective armour of any kind.

Then the figure had begun to walk towards him, and, even at a distance, he'd seen his death in her face.

Now he was running, discarding the rifle, his professional demeanour all but forgotten in his desperation to get away, clawing his way back towards the safety of his car. All thoughts of his money and of the contract had vanished in the wind, his only concern now to get far away from this place...and from his erstwhile target. In all of his years of experience he had never seen anything like this! Sweat beaded his brow, but fear drove him on, stumbling across the dunes and up the eroded escarpment towards his concealed vehicle, and all the time the questions revolving through his head. Who was this woman? How could she have withstood the amount of bullets he'd pumped into her? How was she even still alive?

It was impossible...but it had happened.

With relief he saw the car and sprinted towards it, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. She wasn't following him! Maybe he'd actually wounded her, perhaps even fatally, and it had taken time to take effect? He hoped so, but it didn't matter now anyway. In a moment he would be driving off onto the freeway and leaving this nightmare far behind him. To hell with the client and their money, he thought. He would disappear, go to Europe perhaps, and live a quiet life, away from the world and its cares.

God knows he'd earned enough to do it...and he never wanted to see the likes of this again.

He triggered the locks and reached for the door handle...and recoiled in shock as it seemed almost to melt, the metal softening even as he stared at it. Staggering back, he gaped as the whole door appeared to shimmer and slide, its form altering and becoming a pool of shining silver from which a recognisable human-like shape rapidly began to form, the mirror-like material coalescing into the features of the woman who had been his target. Unable to speak, he fumbled for the holstered sidearm at his belt, but within the blink of an eye she was next to him, her index finger a bodkin spike slamming through his chest wall and driving the air from his lungs as she spun him round and pinned him against the car.

"I know this hurts, "She said, almost casually, as if she were talking to a child," So I shall be brief. You are, I assume, a gun for hire. So, who sent you?"

Little more than a low groan escaped his lips, and Catherine's expression hardened still further.

"Let us be clear. You are going to die. Here and now," She continued, her words clipped and precisely used as her green eyes burned into his," The manner of that death is, however, in your hands. Tell me what I want to know and I shall make it quick," The spike extended further, it's tip touching his heart, and he grimaced, the contents of his bladder emptying out to stain the asphalt beneath his feet" Do not tell me, and I shall make your ending seem an eternity of torment. But in either case, be assured, you will die"

Writhing in excruciating pain and gasping as he whispered the words, he told her, and she nodded, withdrawing the spike and watching as the blood spurted from the wound and he sank to his knees before her.

"Thank you, "She said," However there is just one thing more. You attacked my daughter, so about that quick death?" Her face came closer to him and talons of steel gripped his throat, his eyes bulging in their sockets with mute terror as she whispered into his ear.

" _I lied_..."

* * *

It had been quiet in ZeiraCorp's basement. Other than the muted noises of the air conditioning and the thrumming of the projection screen, few sounds disturbed the peace of the corridors and rooms that comprised the very bottom level of the modern building above it. Most staff were not at work, including Mr Murch and Mr Ellison and It was a fact that, for once, John Henry was glad of.

Alone and sitting at his desk, although his fingers were occupied with the painting of his small figurines, his mind was racing along the many cyber-pathways of the internet, seeking and finding the pieces of information that he required. Art, philosophy, literature, all of them open books to his agile programming as his servers worked to his instruction, his memory connecting and re-connecting at a prodigious rate to accommodate the new data he was absorbing.

Yet, even with these things to work with, he was still worried.

Since his conversation with Catherine and his knowledge of her intention to follow his advice, he'd found it increasingly difficult to distract himself from wondering if she had been successful, for whilst he knew that his analysis had been flawless from a statistical point of view, the involvement of human emotions was an unknown and difficult factor to allow a margin of error for. He believed he was right, and all the tests that he had performed to check on his theory had all proved to be mathematically sound, but still it was the small but disturbing gap in the logic pattern created by the uncertainty of emotional response that concerned him.

Savannah had become his friend, and he did not wish for that friendship to end.

It was odd that it had been a simple game of hide-and-seek that had begun their relationship, and his understanding of the child's sense of loneliness that had led him to observe Catherine's interactions with her. He too had felt alone, and when he had observed her coming out of Weaver's private office looking crestfallen, he had immediately understood the reasons why.

So they had played their game...and by participating, he had learned

He got up from his table and moved toward on one of the wall screens, deep in contemplation. It was a risk for Catherine to reveal the truth to Savannah, a risk that he'd known she was unwilling to take, but that he'd known was inevitable. Was that unwillingness a result of her innate need for security, he'd wondered, or did it stem from some other, far deeper reason? He had, over time, come to believe the latter, as she had gradually begun to become much closer to the child. Was it the case that she too was lonely, in her own way, perhaps seeking solace from someone near, someone who might not judge her as harshly as an adult human possibly would?

It was hard to know, but the evidence pointed to it as a likely, if unusual, solution.

It was then that it happened.

The suddenness of hearing Weaver's familiar Scottish brogue in his head shocked him back to reality, and his eyes widened as Catherine, her tone urgent and strained, briefly described what had happened to Savannah. In the space of a heartbeat he had the geographical location for them and the position of a satellite to give a clear image of the area, it's camera zooming in at his relayed instructions to show the situation on the ground, whilst on another screen he could see the scene as Catherine herself was seeing it.

And what he saw chilled him to the core.

* * *

Darkness...

This was all she knew, a swirling black pool that enveloped her in its cold embrace, dragging her down into an endless abyss as pain thudded and ached within her, her silent cries for release and for comfort going unheeded and unheard.

But she was not alone in the dark. Someone was there.

There was a voice, a voice calling her name, over and over again, talking to her.

"Savannah...Savannah...open your eyes Savannah...Savannah...talk to me..."

Other voices came and went too, at times so faint as to be barely audible, at others almost drowned out by a roaring, swishing sound that frightened her. Yet through it all she heard that one single voice above them all, the voice with a familiar lilt to it that was so similar to her own, the voice that told her everything would be fine and that she had to be brave...and that she had to fight to against the darkness, that it was her enemy and that she had to overcome it.

But she wanted to sleep, wanted the pain to go and not come back.

She wanted her mother to hold her, her father to read to her and sweep her into his arms as he had done so many times before. Dimly she was aware of sensations, of a touch on her hand or her forehead, and other noises, strident beeps and softer, more rhythmic shushing sounds that seemed so far away.

Then the darkness fell closed in again, and she felt herself being pulled down once more, swooping like a bird in flight towards the widening circle of light before her, the pain forgotten as she glimpsed the figure standing within it with a gentle smile and open arms.

And the voice that whispered after her...

" _Savannah..."_

* * *

Alone in the room, Catherine watched as the girl's chest rose and fell rhythmically, the soft level of lighting that formed a pool around her and the flickering amber lights of the monitors giving the room a cocoon-like feel. Occasionally a nurse would look in with an encouraging smile, check the readouts and charts, and then leave as quietly as they'd come, leaving her alone once more.

Alone, and yet not so.

Rising from her seat at Savannah's side, she walked over to the window, opening the blinds a little to let in the moonlight. Across the hospital grounds traffic moved back and forth, their sounds hidden by the distance and by the tall screen of maples that rustled in the breeze, and as she watched, a lone fox, its russet fur rippling in the breeze, loped away into the shadows, its lithe shape quickly swallowed up by the dark.

A calm night indeed, but her thoughts were anything but calm.

The flight to the hospital had been brief, the helicopter medic full of concern for her young patient. John Henry had, upon receiving Catherine's call, ensured that the emergency services had been summoned, and, seeing the remoteness of the area, had swiftly taken the decision to activate the quickest form of medical transport available, and for that she was grateful, for the flight time of minutes rather than a road journey of a much longer duration had been a vital life-saving move. Seated within the confines of the cabin she'd noted how pale Savannah had been and how lifeless, barely moaning or opening her eyes as the medic had worked on her. Her own scans of the girl had found the internal bleeding, but there had been little anyone could do until she could be operated upon, which had happened within an hour of them landing at the helipad.

And although the surgery had been successful, all anyone could do now was to wait...and to hope for the best.

Turning from the window, she gazed at the small figure in the bed, and had she been human, she believed she would have sighed. Her disposal of the assassin's mortal remains in the flames of his vehicle had been a quick and easy way to cover her tracks, but once she had done so she'd felt the rage within her subsiding, melting away to be replaced by another strange and alien feeling, a feeling that had grown stronger as she'd knelt at the child's side and cradled her still-warm body to hers and had talked to her as best she knew how.

Yet, despite the fact that such things were beyond her experience, somehow the words had come, and she'd found herself needing Savannah to survive, even if it meant she might reject her in the end, a concept that she had never believed she would ever feel for a human of any type, no matter how close to her they might be.

Was this then, she wondered, the true love of a mother for a child?

There had been questions of course, many of them, from both the police and from James Ellison, who had, rather touchingly, blamed himself as her Head of Security for not being there to stop the events occurring . In spite of her normal reservations about human beings, she had to admit that he was a very honourable man, and she'd had to insist on his _not_ taking the blame for it, seeing as how worried he was about Savannah too. A slight smile played at the corner of her mouth at the thought of it, and at this moment she understood why, having wanted children of his own, he was so concerned, as indeed was John Henry.

It was an odd thing, but in losing one father, the child had actually gained two others, who both doted on her in their own very different ways.

She had, however, been evasive about the identity and death of the assassin.

Luckily for her, one of the privileges of being the CEO of a multi-national company was that it was assumed by authorities that a person in such a position was always a potential target . So it took very little effort to convince the detectives who'd interviewed her that she knew very little about the incident other than the bare facts, and of course they hadn't wanted to worry her unduly, given her daughter's precarious condition. Only John Henry knew the information she'd gained, and for the time being at least, that was the way it would stay.

The fewer people who knew, the safer things would be, for both Savannah, and herself.

Now, with an armed guard outside of the door, another at the entrance to the ward and still others patrolling the grounds, both the police and James had finally been satisfied that any further attempt on their lives would be thwarted. She had politely gone along with their suggestions, knowing that to argue against them would draw unwanted attention to her situation, and in so doing more questions would be raised than she was ultimately comfortable with. Ellison had stayed with her a while, but, seeing his drawn features and her own desire to be alone, she'd insisted that he go home and get some sleep, telling him she would contact him in the event of any change in Savannah's condition.

Reluctantly he'd agreed, though when he left, she'd doubted that he would rest very much.

A low moan disturbed her thoughts, and she crossed the floor to Savannah's bedside. The girl was stirring, waking from sleep. She was weak, of course, but at least she was alive and for that Catherine was thankful. But, even as she stared down at her, another new emotion tugged at her, one that she had never normally felt or understood, and that prompted her to begin to turn away and walk towards the door, fearing what the girl might say when she opened her eyes and saw her standing there.

Yet she had gone only a few quiet steps when she heard a faint whisper.

"M...mo...mommy...?"

She stopped, staring at the wall, considering what to do. But something, some indefinable force she could not fathom, made her turn back. Savannah, her small form seemingly engulfed by the size of the bed, was blinking in the low light, her face a ghostly white against the crisp pillows that cradled her head, her frightened eyes seeking Catherine's reassuring features in an unfamiliar setting.

"Savannah?" She approached the bed again, seeing the child's look of confusion," It's alright, Savannah. You are in hospital. You are safe, but you have been hurt"

"O...ohhh..." Savannah exhaled, moving her hand slightly on the covers, "Th...there was...was a man..."

"I know," Catherine said, trying to give an encouraging smile," He was shooting at us, and you were injured, but he's been dealt with. You are safe now"

Silence fell between them for a moment, and then abruptly Savannah spoke, her voice a little stronger this time, but with a note of nervousness in it.

"Why...why were you leaving?"

Catherine looked down at her before answering. "I thought it best...given that you now know the truth"

"B..b..but don't you want to be my mommy anymore?"

Surprised, Catherine tilted her head, seeing tears forming. "Do you want me to be?"

Savannah gave a small, timid nod.

"Even after all that I have told you? Knowing what I am?"

Another nod.

"But, why?" Catherine asked, moving to sit on the end of the bed" Why would you want me to be, knowing now who and what I am?"

Savannah dropped her head. "You'll think I'm silly"

Catherine leaned forward, and gently hooked a finger beneath the girl's chin to bring her eyes level with her own, a gesture that she'd seen the original Catherine Weaver do with her husband in one of the video's that she'd studied.

"Try me"

Savannah regarded her for a moment, and then the words came.

"I had a dream..." She murmured," A dream about my real momm..." Suddenly realising what she'd said she almost blushed in embarrassment, but Catherine gave a gentle smile and shook her head.

"It's alright, Savannah. You can say it, it won't upset me"

"Oh..." Relief flooded her face, and she took a breath before continuing," Well, there was this bright light. Really, really bright. And when I looked, mommy and daddy were there, and they talked to me"

 _A delirium, brought on by shock and the anaesthetic_ , Catherine thought, _but intriguing nonetheless._

"Go on"

"They told me it wasn't my time...that I had to go back..." She said, her voice taking on a wistful quality "And that if I didn't, my other mommy would be sad, because she'd promised to take care of me, and that she was doing her best to do that, even though she wasn't sure a lot of the time if she was doing things right"

She stopped and looked at Catherine. "But they said you shouldn't be worried, 'cos you are"

Catherine cocked her head, her hair falling about her face. It was all just a dream of course, her logical programming told her. Nothing more than a cerebral response to the injury that she'd suffered and the treatment that had been needed as well as the blood loss. And yet, within her, she felt a strange kind of elation at Savannah's words, a kind of release that she hadn't experienced before.

"Did they?" She asked, and the girl nodded again.

"But, there's something else," Savannah said," Another reason as well"

"Oh?" Catherine kept her expression calm, trying to fathom the child's mind, "And what is that?"

The girl winced as she felt a twinge of pain from her wound, and Catherine squeezed her hand.

"Easy now, Savannah," She said, concerned at seeing her discomfort," Perhaps we should talk more when you have rested?"

But to her surprise the child shook her head.

"I'm alright. It just hurts a bit," She gave a little grin, a glimpse of her old self," But...but I was thinking. There's a boy in my class. He's sometimes sad because he's an orphan"

"I see"

"Well, I was thinking... that we are both orphans too"

Catherine raised her eyebrows "We are?"

Savannah nodded. "You had to leave the ones who made you, and you were alone. And I lost my mommy and daddy as well. So...so that makes us..."

"Orphans"

She could understand the logic...and, she had to admit, perhaps in a sense, she was correct.

"And we can learn from each other...can't we?"

Looking into the girl's face, with its earnest, almost pleading expression, Catherine thought of all of the humans she had dealt with, all of the disappointments and setbacks and failures that she had encountered and endured. Yet somehow, this young child, with her innocence and her naivety of the world, her ability to see the good in people and to accept them for who and what they were, had found a way through all of that to reach the core of Catherine's being.

A child that she had come close to losing.

Without knowing why, the question came to her, and when she asked it, her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"Will you be my daughter, Savannah?"

Savannah smiled and held out her arms. "Will...will you still be my mommy?"

Neither knew who moved first, but it mattered little to either of them, for the future was yet to be written. Mistakes would be made, and there would be hard times and good times, but they would face them together, melded together by a bond of something far stronger than mere flesh and steel, something that could not be broken no matter how far they might be from each other and that would endure the tests of the years to come.

And for the first time, the life-form known as Catherine Weaver knew what it meant to love...and to be loved in return.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

The room was darkened, the myriad of displays and monitors lending a ghostly grey light to the place. It was a stark room, a room where no time or effort had been wasted on aesthetic nuances or concerns. Each component part was functional, each a part of the whole. Hidden from the world, the room was a self-contained universe, a place where the events of the outside world could be observed and dissected, free from the prying eyes of officials and authorities.

A room that was part of that world...and yet not so.

Standing before the screens, the dark suited figure had expressed no emotion, no reaction to the news he had received. To have done so would have been futile and a waste of time. What was done was done and could not be altered. What was important was to keep the mission in focus, the ultimate goal. All else was merely a distraction, an irritant that diverted attention from the purpose.

Words appeared on the screen, the sibilant voice echoing from the inset speakers.

 _Your Operative Failed..._

"He did" The figure answered, again without a trace of feeling.

 _You Should Have Carried Out The Operation Yourself._

He leaned back, giving a tiny shake of his head in response.

"To do so would leave us exposed. That is not the mission"

 _She Will Be Protected Now. The Opportunity Has Been Wasted_

"There will be other opportunities" He said, "Other times we can utilise. Protection cannot be guaranteed at all times"

The screen remained blank for a moment, the speakers silent. Then the words came again.

 _The Girl Is A Threat...She Must Be Neutralised._

And as silence fell once more, a silver sheen passed across the figure, and it spoke to the empty air, its voice quietly determined.

"She will be terminated...sooner, or later. By another's hand, or by my own. That I promise you...Skynet"

 **The End...for now.**


End file.
